


Drabble #21 – “I’m gonna lie down and die for like half hour, okay?”

by you_make_me_wander



Series: Birthday drabbles [21]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Supportive Derek, a little bit of domestic fluff and a little banter, and stiles is, well just stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6375853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_make_me_wander/pseuds/you_make_me_wander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles comes home to a supportive Derek after a bad day at work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabble #21 – “I’m gonna lie down and die for like half hour, okay?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I'm a Stydia shipper and this is my 2nd time writing for Sterek. Everything you need to know about me, my writing and my view of Sterek you can find on Drabble #10, the other fic I wrote for Sterek. You're welcome to check it out.
> 
> This drabble can be read as taking place in canon some years in the future, or as an AU. I’ll leave it to your imagination :)

**Dedication** : This fic is more than delayed for the birthday of the lovely Annelies - narrywhatelse on tumblr -, but it's finally here. Happy belated birthday, sweetie. I hope you like it :)

* * *

 

“I’m gonna lie down and die for like half hour, okay?”

Stiles doesn’t wait for Derek to say anything back, just slams the front door behind him and grudgingly makes his way towards the couch, where he plops unceremoniously facing down and lets out a low grunt, irritated.

From the kitchen, Derek narrows his eyes in suspicion, wondering why Stiles could ever be in such a mood (or at least, why he’d be moodier than usual; it is Stiles after all) but then he remembers that today was Ricky’s first day back at the coffee shop after being on medical leave for over three weeks, and if someone’s bound to get on Stiles’ nerves, and absurdly at that, it’s _Ricky_ , so _that_ has to be why Derek’s boyfriend stormed into the loft without another word.

The werewolf lets Stiles calm down before saying anything, lowering the temp on the stove and stirring the soup, putting down the spoon before making his way to the living room where he finds Stiles sprawled over the couch, his arms covering his head for drama effect, murmuring lowly to himself curse word after curse word after curse word directed at his blonde, god-looking like co-worker.

It makes Derek purse his lips in amusement not to laugh, a small smile threatening to escape that Stiles just knows is there even though he isn’t looking, and good god does it make him madder.

“Stop that!” he spats.

“Stop what?” Derek asks feigning confusion, raising an eyebrow even if Stiles can’t see.

Stiles knows that he’s doing it anyway. “Stop enjoying this so much, you’re making it worse,” Stiles mumbles against a cushion, so the sound comes out muffled.

It’s a good thing (or rather inconvenient sometimes, honestly, if Stiles were to be asked) that Derek has enhanced hearing. “I thought _I_ was the grumpy one,” Derek says, crouching down besides Stiles and waiting for the human to face him.

Stiles sighs audibly and turns his head to look at Derek, hands still buried in his own hair as if he needs to ground himself. “You try to put up with Ricky for a ten-hour shift and not be in a bad mood.”

“I put up with you,” Derek remarks jokingly, grabbing hold of one of Stiles’ hands so that he stops mauling his naturally unruly mane, a nasty habit he has picked up when he’s stressed.

Eventually, Stiles gives in and squeezes Derek’s hand in thanks and, never losing touch with is boyfriend, turns to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling in contemplation.

(In truth, he does it to ramble. It’s one of his favorite past times and they both know it.)

(Derek kneels on the floor just in case it turns out to be a long rant rather than a short one.)

“Long day?” he asks interestedly.

“Ricky _is such_ a dick!” Derek doesn’t even get to say anything before Stiles continues. “Like, who the hell was _supposedly_ sick – and yes,” he glares at Derek, “I still don’t believe he was actually sick – and comes back to work full force, still very much a jackass as if he hadn’t been weak and beat up just the day before-”

Derek interrupts Stiles, trying to reason with him. He knows how he can get carried away sometimes. “Isn’t that what a medical leave is for though, to ensure that one gets better?”

The thing is, where Ricky is concerned, Stiles and his co-worker have pretty much been archenemies ever since the other man started working at the coffee shop about three months ago, where Stiles had been the employee of the month for almost two years straight.

The problem? Ricky is over-flirtatious if that’s even a thing, and girls upon girls and guys stop by to swoon over him whereas Stiles makes polite, sometimes funny conversation with the customers. The regulars prefer Stiles always because, as they say, he has his own charm, but what gives publicity to the place right now are Ricky’s arms and Ricky’s abs and his stupid hair or whatever.

Needless to say, Stiles hates him.

(And is just slightly jealous of his impressive physique, but in truth it’s really about how Stiles was so close to getting a promotion and now things aren’t so certain anymore and he hates it.)

Stiles _really_ _hates_ him.

Loathes the guy, really.

Stiles can tell that Derek regrets asking because usually it would rile Stiles up, but he’s just worn-out from work today and upset, and in need of a little comfort. Picking a quarrel with is boyfriend is not gonna help at all even if, as it happens more often than not, their arguments are mostly amicable and amusing.

 _Mostly_.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles lets out with a tired sigh, rubbing his eyes distractedly with the hand that’s not holding Derek’s. “I’m sorry.”

Derek gives him a small smile and kisses Stiles’ knuckles, his thumb rubbing them gently right after. “It’s okay, I get it.”

“It’s just… It’s not fair, you know? He’s not even good at his job,” he mutters, gesticulating in a very-Stiles manner with his free hand. “He sucks actually, and I work my ass off to do my best and still…”

Stiles groans in frustration and Derek squeezes his hand in understanding. He knows Ricky is actually just an entitled, rich brat who’s trying to let his parents know that he can do something in life instead of devoting his time to being a socialite, and Derek’s pretty sure that even Cora, with her dazzling personality and natural charm (Stiles is not the only one who can do sarcasm!), would do a much better job than that guy.

He’s seen firsthand just how bad he is at the job in comparison to pretty much every single person on the planet, but the thing is that having Ricky around is good publicity, and since Mr. Novak – the owner, and an old friend of the Sheriff – renovated the coffee shop a few months ago, free publicity is key. As the man sees it, it can’t hurt having Ricky flaunt himself around the place for a while so long as the other employees do their job.

It’s not exactly the most ethic approach for a successful, healthy running business, but it works. More people come to the coffee shop now than they did before the renovation, and no one really complains because they get to stare at Ricky while his co-workers are amazing at their job and provide for quality service.

Stiles doesn’t like it any more for that, understandably.

“Look, Mr. Novak knows how hard you work every day, okay? Hadn’t it been for you, I doubt he’d have the success he actually has now and he knows that, Stiles. He knows _you_.” The corners of Stiles’ lips tilt up despite himself as Derek continues, his hand raking through Stiles’ hair absently. “He knows how hard you work, how good you are with the customers and don’t forget that the renovation was pretty much your idea. I’m sure he’s just taking advantage of the resources he has available at the moment.”

“It doesn’t make it suck any less,” Stiles mutters, somewhat resigned. “It just drives me mad that he barely knows how the coffee machine works, you know? Or which area is his to serve… Even Mike is far better than him and we all thought Mike was a lost cause.”

Mike is Stiles and Derek’s downstairs neighbor, a kid fresh out of high school who was just looking for a part time and some extra cash along with it to help with his college tuition. Stiles put in a good word for him and he’s been doing surprisingly well at the coffee shop, despite being far clumsier than Stiles ever was, which says a lot.

“See? You were the one who told Mr. Novak about Mike and he loves the guy. Maybe you just need to talk to him, Stiles. He listens to you. I’m sure Mr. Novak will take your opinions into consideration just like he did when you went to him about Mike.” At that, there’s a sheepish smile and a narrow of eyes that have Derek looking at Stiles suspiciously. “Wait. What did you do?”

Stiles opens his mouth in feigned shock at the assumption, then grunts because he knows well enough what he’s done. “Remember Nora?”

Nora is Mr. Novak’s daughter, a beautiful girl in her twenties that’s studying away from home and only comes back occasionally to visit the family, a bright genius but a complete introvert, and she so happened to visit the coffee shop today.

Derek nods in acknowledgement, and when Stiles doesn’t say anything for a good twenty seconds, the werewolf raises an eyebrow, growing more and more disbelieving.

“You set them up, didn’t you?”

“In my defense, it was completely unintentional,” Stiles quips quickly. “I introduced them and it just sort of… Happened…”

“Mr. Novak’s gonna kill you,” Derek tells him, trying – and failing – to withhold a laugh. “I can’t believe you set up precious, sweet Nora with that jerk.”

“Wait!” Stiles sits up in a hurried movement, full-on glaring at Derek. “Who do you think I set her up with? _Ricky_? You think I have a death wish?” Derek raises an eyebrow at Stiles then, again,, clearly implying that yes, sometimes Stiles does have a death wish and he sure as hell knows it, if the number of times he’s put himself in danger for the pack is any indication. “ _Mike_. I sort of set her up with Mike.”

“It isn’t as bad as the alternative,” Derek offers, tilting his head in consideration. “Although Mike is gonna have it hard. Both because Nora won’t be in town for long _and_ because Mr. Novak is gonna make his life a living hell now, probably.”

“And mine. Both because I’m the one who introduced them _and_ because I’m the one who got Mike the job in the first place. I’m so gonna get fired…” Stiles mutters with a breathy sigh. This day really wasn’t one of his best. “But… But you should have seen them, Derek. It was like Mike’s eyes just lit as soon as Nora walked in. And she goes in and notices him and literally, very visibly blushes. Hard, like in a novel. It’s like they were the only ones in the room. And they’re both so shy, _god_ … It was adorable, I couldn’t help myself.”

Stiles suddenly hears how the lid of the pan is shaking from the vapor back in the kitchen, and it makes him realize that he has interrupted Derek when he’d walked in a few minutes before. “The same way that I can’t help myself when I start rambling, which I am doing now, so I’ll stop. This isn’t important, I’m sorry,” Stiles finishes, eyes apologetic like a puppy caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Derek squeezes Stiles’ shoulder in understanding. “It’s okay. It does matter. And it’s a good distraction,” he offers with a smile and a supportive nod of his head.

“Me, rambling?” Stiles chuckles lightly. “What? Grading middle schoolers’ papers isn’t exciting enough for you?” he teases, grabbing Derek’s hand and holding it in his own.

“Not enough, no,” Derek murmurs jokingly. “But it is fun sometimes, I’ll give them that.” He loves his students, it’s what he means. “Still not as entertaining as listening to you, for sure.”

Stiles smiles softly before leaning in, placing a chaste kiss on Derek’s lips in thanks. Derek cups his cheeks to pull Stiles closer and deepen the kiss in greeting, since he didn’t get the chance when Stiles walked in.

When they pull away, Derek is smiling too. “Tell me all about it. Tell me all about how you’ll get your ass fired. We need to be prepared,” he teases, letting out a laugh. “I don’t know if I want to marry someone who can so recklessly get himself unemployed.”

Marry.

 _Marriage_.

Derek casually mentioning it _again_ as if it’s an ordinary topic of conversation!

(Stiles’ heart, which just skipped a beat, utterly disagrees.)

Derek says it jokingly in that moment, he knows, but Stiles wonders just how serious he’s being. Marriage is a topic they’ve talked lightly over the years and far more frequently lately, with hints dropped here and there, so far mostly from Derek’s part.

Stiles idly considers bringing up the subject later.

(Or soon, since he’s Stiles and he can’t help himself. Very, very soon, preferably.)

“Do you really want to hear me ramble? Because I could go on for hours,” Stiles states in an almost proud tone, continuing the conversation and trying not to let show how he’s a little nervous all of a sudden.

(Sometimes he forgets he’s dating a werewolf.)

Derek smirks at how Stiles’ heart jumped just before he spoke and can’t help but to let out a laugh, getting back up on his feet and pulling Stiles along with him. “Oh, I know,” he jokes. “Why don’t you tell me over dinner?” Derek asks with a tilt of his head towards the kitchen. “It’s almost ready.”

If someone would have told Stiles – or Derek, for that matter – that they’d be here now, supporting each other even despite their differences and unique quirks and stupid arguments, helping each other through testing times and rough days and better ones, they’d probably laugh.

Not now, though.

Now they’re just thankful. And happy and excited for what’s to come, ups and downs.

Derek leads the way to the kitchen and takes off the lid, stirring the soup one last time before turning off the stove. Stiles is beside him in an instant, stealing a kiss on his cheek before waving his hand softly over the steamy pan to inhale the mouthwatering scent. “Maybe _you_ should tell _me_ about _your_ day. I don’t want to talk about Ricky anymore.”

“Good. I don’t care about _him_.”

“But you care about me?” Stiles asks teasingly, placing a hand over his own heart. “I’m touched.”

“You know I do,” Derek murmurs almost inaudibly, a soft smile gracing his lips, a bump against Stiles’ shoulder for good measure.

“Good,” Stiles grins, blushing a little. It takes someone special to put up with someone like himself and god, is he happy that he’s found someone that special. “Good.”

There’s a moment of silence that follows, and Derek looks at Stiles with a playful glint in his eyes, a nod of his head and a smirk that agrees with how Stiles is feeling in that moment.

Stiles couldn’t ask for anything else and neither could Derek.

“Need a hand?”

Derek tries to ignore the dirty implication that Stiles denotes on his tone every time he says something of the sort, barely managing to stifle a chuckle. “Sure. Why don’t you set up the table while I finish up here?”

“And we can talk over dinner?” Stiles asks, already opening the cutlery drawer to take out what he needs. “About _my_ day, and _your_ day and uh- You know, _things_? In hmm… In general?”

Derek doesn’t hesitate in pecking Stiles’ lips before smirking almost devilishly, reaching over to one of the upper counters to grab two plates while facing away just to tease Stiles further. “Something on your mind?”

Derek knows damn well that Stiles, as he is, is probably still hung up on the fact that Derek just casually mentioned marriage once again, which is a good thing. They have to talk about it at some point. It’s the next step in their relationship, and in truth they’re both eager to discuss the matter sooner rather than later to see where they both stand.

You know, as soon as they actually get to talk about it.

Stiles grins again, the way the blood is running through his veins now having nothing to do with why it was boiling when he came home just a few minutes ago. “Maybe.”

Stiles finds a couple of glasses while Derek serves the soup, the werewolf then making his way to the dining table all the while graciously balancing both plates on his hands when he keeps walking but looks over his shoulder to teasingly tell Stiles to “Grab the wine.” When Stiles joins him at the table, he’s already much more relaxed even if having _the conversation_ makes him a little anxious.

In the end of the day, when he’s falling asleep in Derek’s arms, Stiles can’t help but to think that this is what home means to him, what will mean from then on now that they agree on another aspect of their lives. Because even in the worst of days they can, together, make it all better, and that’s all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is much appreciated :)


End file.
